


Your String of Lights are Still Bright to Me

by MayaReidBarnes1917



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everything I Write Is Just Stucky Feels, Fluff and Angst, I Tried, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5948170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaReidBarnes1917/pseuds/MayaReidBarnes1917
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Steve?"</p><p>"Hmm?" Steve hummed from where he sat beside him, against the headboard. Bucky looked up at him, then back down in his hands in his lap, one cool metal, the other soft flesh.</p><p>"Sometimes I think... I think that maybe... I feel like there's something there, inside me, that's not quite me, you know?" He looked at Steve again, but the blond only gave a silent nod. "It's just, all the things I did, how can I ever go back? I don't know if I'll ever be able to see past everything."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your String of Lights are Still Bright to Me

**Author's Note:**

> This song fic was inspired by Taylor Swift's "Innocent". I do not own this song, and all rights go to the proper owners. Please note that this work contains a scene with a panic attack. Please do not read this if that kind of thing triggers you.

Guess _you really did it this time._

_Left yourself on your warpath._

_Lost your balance on a tightrope,_

_lost your mind trying to get it back._

 

"No! Stop! Please!" Bucky thrashed and jolted upright as he screamed himself awake from his nightmare. They seemed to come every night now, with each memory worse than the last. He was always afraid to close his eyes, but exhaustion overtook him every time. Bucky started at the at the sound of his apartment door opening.

 

"Bucky?" Steve's voice echoed towards him as Steve rounded the corner to the hall and appeared in Bucky's bedroom doorway. Jarvis must have woken Steve again when Bucky had his nightmare. Bucky both hated that Steve was woken on his behalf, and appreciated that Jarvis made sure none of them were ever alone when they had hard nights.

 

"You okay?" Steve asked him, moving forward to sit on the edge of the bed.

 

"Yeah, just had a bad dream is all..." Bucky ran a hand over his face and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve always asked him that. Sometimes, if he was feeling brave, Bucky would share some of it. But tonight was not one of those nights. He shuddered and shook his head. 

 

"Okay." It still surprised Bucky how kind and accepting Steve was, even though he knew that Steve was always that way. Though, after his years with Hydra, kindness had become a strange concept to him. They sat in silence. It was comfortable and calming, reminding Bucky of times before. Of memories still resurfacing, some abstract and jumbled, but others clear as crystal.

 

_Wasn't it easier in your lunchbox days?_

_Always a bigger bed to crawl into._

_Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything,_

_and everybody believed in you?_

 

Bucky's feet thumped on the pavement as he ran down the street to Steve's small, few room apartment. He always walked to Steve's on the mornings before school, so Steve wouldn't have to make the trip to meet Bucky. Who knows what kind of trouble that punk would get into alone? Bucky knocked on the door and smiled when Steve's mother answered. 

 

"Hi, Mrs. Rogers!" He peered around her to look for his friend who usually answered the door. "Where's Steve?" Mrs. Rogers gave him a sad smile.

 

"I'm afraid he's sick today and can't go to school." Bucky's face crumpled.

 

"Oh. Well, can I see him then?" 

 

"Of course." Steve's mother stepped aside to let Bucky in and he immediately made for Steve's bedroom. He cracked open the door to make sure he wasn't sleeping, and then entered when he found Steve sitting upright, drawing something in his sketchbook. Steve's face lit up when he saw Bucky.

 

"Hey." The blond's voice was rough as though he had been coughing a lot. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and pointed to Steve's sketchbook. 

 

"What'cha drawing?" Steve turned the pad of paper around so Bucky could see the detailed drawing he had made. It was the sunrise that Steve had a view of from his window. The light seemed to be seeping from the sketch, as real as anything. Bucky let out a breath. Steve's drawings never stopped taking his breath away. "Wow. It's wonderful."

 

Steve smiled. "Thanks. It's not quite finished yet and it still needs a couple-" Steve was cut off by a bought of of coughing that made Bucky cringe and move to rub small circles on the boy's back, just as he always did when Steve had trouble breathing. Finally, the coughing died down, but Bucky stayed at Steve's side.

 

"You alright?" He asked. The blond nodded.

 

"Yeah. You should go, you'll-" *Cough* "be late for school."

 

"Nah," Bucky replied. "You're sick. I'm gonna stay here with you."

 

"Buck-"

 

"Nope. Staying right here. Can't get rid of me, sorry." Bucky settled back on the pillows that had been stacked up to help Steve sit, and flashed him a cocky grin. Steve sighed and rolled his eyes at his friend's stubbornness. 

 

"Fine then. But don't blame me when you end up getting sketched." A slow smile came to rest on Bucky's face. 

 

"Punk."

 

"Jerk."

 

_Did some things you can't speak of,_

_but at night you live it all again._

_You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now_

_if only you had seen what you know now, then._

 

Those were the days when Bucky could foolishly convince himself that nothing bad would ever happen. That they'd be able to keep the small spark of happiness alive forever. Little did they know how bad things could get. Another memory, more recent, and terror filled flashed in Bucky's mind. A woman, her children, huddled together. The kids crying, the mother screaming for help, for mercy. 

 

But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was how Bucky just seemed to be watching, completely out of control, as his body slaughtered them with no emotion, no reaction, no question. The darkness of himself terrified Bucky. He fought his hardest to break through the programming, but only ended up exhausting himself.

 

"Bucky! Bucky! Can you hear me?" Bucky realized he was being shaken. He tried to answer, but he felt as though all the air had been taken from his lungs. His thoughts whirled violently. Bucky could make out Steve's voice, see his face through the haze in his mind, but the room spun around him. He gasped for breath but his lungs couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. Terrified, Bucky reached out to grab Steve's arm.

 

"I- I can't breathe." Bucky managed to stutter out.

 

"Buck, listen to me. You're having a panic attack. I'm gonna put up my fingers and you're gonna count with me, alright?" Steve held up a finger. "One," he started, then held up another one.

 

"Two," Bucky gasped. Steve held up a third.

 

"Three."

 

"Four."

 

"Five." Steve held up his other hand.

 

"Six."

 

"Seven." Bucky's breath was beginning to slow.

 

"Eight."

 

"Nine."

 

"Ten." Bucky finished. His mind slowly cleared, and he eventually felt like he could think again. Steve pulled him into a hug and Bucky clung to him as though his life depended on it.

 

Once he gathered the strength to pull away he asked, "How did you know to do that?"

 

Steve gave him a sad smile. "I used to get them a lot when I first got back. Sam taught me how to manage them." Bucky just nodded.

 

_Wasn't it easier in your firefly catching days?_

_When everything out of reach_

_someone bigger brought down to you._

_Wasn't it beautiful,_

_running wild 'till you fell asleep?_

_Before the monsters caught up to you._

 

"Hey, wait!" Steve yelled from behind Bucky. He stopped and waited until Steve got to him. The small boy was breathing heavily and Bucky internally scolded himself for not thinking and just dashing off. "What are we running for, anyway?" Bucky threw an arm over Steve's shoulders so they could walk together.

 

"It's your birthday! There's something we can't miss!" The sky was growing darker as Bucky lead the blond into his apartment building and achingly slowly up the stairs to the rooftop. Once they got there, Bucky helped Steve to a spot where they could sit.

 

"So are you gonna tell me why we came all the way up here?" Before Bucky could answer, the first whistling sound of a firework pierced the air and there was an explosion of light and color above them. More quickly followed. Steve and Bucky sat together on that Fourth of July, watching the fireworks for hours until Steve got tired, and Bucky helped him down the stairs and walked him home. The next day, Steve showed him a drawing of the fireworks they had seen.

 

_Time turns flames to embers._

_You'll have new Septembers._

_Every one of us has messed up, too._

_Minds change like the weather._

_I hope you'll remember,_

_today is never too late to be brand-new._

 

"Steve?"

 

"Hmm?" Steve hummed from where he sat beside him, against the headboard. Bucky looked up at him, then back down in his hands in his lap, one cool metal, the other soft flesh.

 

"Sometimes I think... I think that maybe..." Ugh. Why were his words so difficult to find? He felt unable to speak. "I feel like there's something there, inside me, that's not quite  _me,_ you know?" He looked at Steve again, but the blond only gave a silent nod. "It's just, all the things I did, how can I ever go back? I don't know if I'll ever be able to see past everything. It's just always there." Steve seemed to think for a minute, leaving Bucky more tense by the second. 

 

"Just time will help a little, I think. It wasn't your fault, what they made you do, none of it. And it'll never go away completely, yeah, but maybe it will fade. I'll be here to help you, any time you need me, you know that right?"

 

"Yeah." Bucky said, feeling only the slightest bit better. "Yeah, of course."

 

_It's alright, just wait and see._

_Your string of lights are still bright to me, oh._

_Who you are is not where you've been._

_You're still an innocent._

_It's okay, life is a tough crowd._

_Thirty-two and still growing up now._

_Who you are is not what you did._

_You're still an innocent._

 

It took a while, but Bucky eventually started to fall back asleep. He felt Steve move off the bed and make for the door.

 

"Steve?" Bucky lifted his head from the pillow. Steve stopped and turned. "Stay?" Steve walked back to the bed and settled himself next to Bucky. Just as sleep was about to consume him, six words resonated through his subconscious as he surrendered to the dark. 

 

"'Til the end of the line."

 

_Lost your balance on a tightrope,_

_it's never too late to get it back._

 


End file.
